


Walk The Distance

by RunawayDeviant



Series: Growth [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bones does not appreciate being lied to, Bones is having none of his shit, Cupcake is a tool (what's new?), Gen, Jim is Jack Frost, secret identities being revealed in entirely too over-dramatic fashions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayDeviant/pseuds/RunawayDeviant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's content on taking a leisurely stroll through this life, but it's not really in his nature to be anything but a hellion. It doesn't help that the most fun a mortal can have is breaking the law or annoying grumpy doctors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk The Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This has actually been kicking around on my iPad for a few months now, waiting for a couple of touch-ups and a final polish. Hopefully it's up to scratch! :)

School, Jim reflected as he sat in a third grade classroom, was not something he'd signed up for.

He looked out the window and pouted. It was only the beginning of the school year; autumn was in full swing, but not near enough to winter to dump a foot of snow on Riverside and ditch class.

"Jim?" his teacher asked, pulling his gaze back to the front of the room, "What's seven times nine?"

"Sixty three," he answered dully. He was the only six year old in the class, but he also had five hundred odd years under his belt. If he'd been unable to do times tables by this stage, Aster probably would've strapped him to a chair and _made_ him learn them.

"Good job," the teacher said in a tone people used with two year olds. His regular teacher knew exactly how not to talk to him, but sadly she was ill, and Jack had made the transition from fun-loving spirit to slightly-unstable child genius very thoroughly. He narrowed his eyes. The rest of the class erupted in whispers and eager smiles. Kirk vs Substitute: Begin.

"Miss," he said, widening his baby blues, "What's one hundred and twenty-eight times three hundred and twelve?"

She blinked; "Well, I don't know. Most people use a calculator for numbers that high. We just need to focus on our tables up to twelve, for now."

"The answer is thirty-nine thousand, nine hundred and thirty-six," Jim said before she could start asking someone else a question.

"That's... very impressive, Jim," she said, only just realising that _she_ was the one being tested now, "Why did you happen to know that combination?"

"I didn't, he replied evenly, "I picked two random numbers out of the air and calculated them in my head."

"Well, I suppose I can see why you're three years ahead."

"I could probably run you through a millennium equation, too."

"Jim, we're doing times tables."

"Well in that case, can I go outside? I already know all the answers."

"Jim-"

"Miss."

"Fine then," she all but snapped, "Prove it."

He did. He got all the way to the twenty-five tables before the principal, trying desperately not to laugh, came in to escort him to an early lunch. The end of his performance set off a round of applause from his classmates and a scowl from the substitute.

"Mr Kirk, if you continue on this way we might have no substitute teachers left willing to teach you by the time you turn ten."

"That's the goal," he said breezily, "I'm hoping to be in college by then, so..."

"A worthy goal," the principal nodded, "I hope you achieve it, if only so that I can stop searching for new staff every time your regular teachers are away."

* * *

 

Jim tested out of twelfth grade at age nine, fulfilling his self-made prophecy and leaving Iowa to get his first bachelor - physics - and a doctorate, which would take five years altogether. He got both in three.

He returned to the house he'd grown up in to find Frank as much of an asshole as ever and, after his first Christmas spent there for years, drove his birth father's car - which Frank had claimed - off a ravine.

Which, in turn, reminded Jim just how much _fun_ being bad was.

He tried, desperately, to reign himself in - he'd wanted a Human vacation, not a trip to prison - but it was no use; he was who he was. He managed to get through another degree - engineering - before ending up spending the night in jail after getting into a bar fight. He was also eighteen, and therefore not legally allowed to have been _in_ the bar.

So began four years of Jim doing his utmost to get into as much trouble as he could without being arrested. Aster pulled him up on three different occasions before throwing his hands in the air and apparently giving up, stalking out of Jim's apartment looking like a storm would be spontaneously forming over his head at any moment.

He was, despite his fancy degrees and doctorate, a bartender from the age of twenty (oops, that was also a bit illegal (oh well, he could mix a cocktail like nobody's business)) and confused just about everyone with his life choices. His résumé proudly boasted his degrees, right above his ability to pour a perfect shot glass pyramid with next to no spillage. Starfleet recruiters wanted him so bad it was a wonder none of them had tried to marry him, law enforcement thought he was Satan reborn, and his friends thought he was absolutely mad. Jim, meanwhile, just wanted to live for a while and sat back, content to enjoy His Life V2 as best he could.

When he hit twenty-one, the account full of money his parents had put away for him opened for his use, and he used it to travel America, noting that it was much more interesting from the ground. He worked his way from the South up the East Coast before cutting through the centre and spending a few months trawling the West Coast and teasing Starfleet Academy with his presence so near San Francisco and yet so far from their productivity. He eventually returned to Riverside and paid a visit to an empty house; Frank long gone for greener pastures, Sam on Deneva and his mother somewhere out in the Black. He sold his apartment and moved back into his family home, bartending permanently at the Shipyard Bar and contemplating which degree to get next; psychology or xenobiology. He'd probably get neither; life was too short for higher education anyway.

It was about that time that Bunny once more got sick of watching him be useless and came to talk to him about it again. Possibly try to talk him out of it.

"Jimmy-Jack," he said as he slid up next to him in the bar, shape-shifted into a human form. Mid-twenties, light grey hair, bright green eyes and tribal tattoos all over, he would've been a welcome sight if Jim hadn't been trying to chat someone up at the time.

"Hey Aster," he said, watching somewhat disappointedly as the vapid woman's attention fixated on his (admittedly more masculine) friend. Maybe he would start going for the ones with attention spans longer than half a minute. "How've you been?"

"Better than you, mate," he replied neutrally. Which meant that he was royally pissed of about something.

"Okay, what's up?"

"Sorry, lady, I'm married," Bunny said instead of replying, waving his ring at the woman, who pouted and moved away.

"How is Sophie, by the way?"

"She's good. Tristis and Silene are equally good. It's _you_ I'm worried about, kid."

Jim sighed; "Alright, what have I done?"

"It's more about what you haven't done," Bunny started. Jim waved at the bartender to bring him another drink and one for Bunny.

"So, what haven't I done?" he asked, nodding his thanks when two pint glasses of beer were placed before them.

Bunny grabbed his and took a sip, frowning, "I think you know exactly what you haven't done, Jack. I know you're not stupid, but you're doing a fair job of acting that way."

Jack nodded thoughtfully and then enquired about the other Guardians' well being. Bunny piped down, sour look firmly in place, and told him what he wanted to know.

By the time he was up to date with the happenings of his friends, Bunny was finished his pint and he was only half done his own.

"It's kinda disappointing," he commented as Bunny downed the last of his drink, "I don't think I'm ever going to be able to down that stuff as fast as you. And I've been _practising_ , too."

At his words, something in Bunny visibly snapped.

"You know what I'm disappointed in?" he slammed his empty glass on the bar and glared at his friend, "You, that's what. Why are you sitting here, wasting away, when you could be doing so much more? Manny didn't give you the world just so that you could drink your way across it!"

Jim just gave him an unimpressed look. He put his own half-full glass to his lips and took a final sip before placing it gently on the bar, alongside a few bills.

"I didn't get to drink before, or do much of anything, you know, before," he said, rising and turning toward the door, "I have a lot of life to live before I need to do something _with_ it."

There was a moment of silence before he heard a huffed laugh and the scrape of a barstool just as he opened the door. He held it open for his friend, who came outside with him, and they walked down the road for a bit before Bunny spoke again.

"You've got five hundred years of maturity to express, but I guess that's going to wait until after you've finished having fun, right?"

Jim nodded and Bunny sighed.

"Alright then, mate; I'm not going to dispute it. I was worried, and Sophie was too."

"And never let it be said that you don't look after Sophie," Jim nodded, "You guys don't have to worry; I'm not really one for drowning my sorrows. The alcohol is more about being able to beat North in the event of a drinking contest."

Bunny snorted; "Good luck with _that_. And the women?"

"Fun comes in many forms, Bunny," he said sagely, "A few of those forms happen to be female."

"Please spare me the details," he replied dryly, "I'll leave you too it then. Even if this version of fun is a bit too... _adult_ for you, in my opinion."

"I'm not perpetually seventeen anymore, Bunny," he said as his friend stepped into an alleyway and kicked the floor twice.

"I know," he replied simply, jumping down the rabbit hole.

* * *

 

It was two months later that he slid up to his own bar on his night off and ordered a shot of Jack for himself because the lovely Uhura refused to let him buy one for her.

"So, you're a cadet, you're studying," he said as he inserted himself next to her, "What's your focus?"

"Xenolinguistics. You have no idea what that means," she replied cooly.

Jim raised a brow at the challenge; "The study of alien languages; morphology, phonology, syntax," he said, smirking at her surprise, "It means you've got a talented tongue."

"I'm impressed," she replied evenly, "For a moment there I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals."

Jim grinned widely; "Well... not _only_."

Uhura laughed, and Jim began to ask what languages she knew, only to be cut off by another cadet.

"This townie isn't bothering you, right?" he asked gruffly, attempting to intimidate Jim with his glare alone. It wasn't working.

"Oh, beyond belief," Uhura replied. Jim pouted. "But it's nothing I can't handle."

"You could handle me, if that's an invitation."

"Hey, you better mind your manners," the unnamed cadet cut in.

"Oh relax Cupcake, it was a joke. Actually, calling you that is an insult to my frankly more built friend by the same name."

Oh, Cupcake. Even two hundred years on she was still one of his favourites.

"Hey, farm boy, maybe you can't count, but there are four of us and one of you."

Jim raised his eyebrows, "I can see that, actually. I'm not sure why that should mean anything, though."

"It means back off, or you'll have to deal with us."

"Hey, I'm not trying to start a fight, man," Jim shrugged, turning to order himself a drink, "Do what you feel like."

A hand landed on his shoulder and turned him back around, "I feel like telling you to get the hell out of this bar," Cupcake the Cadet ground out.

Jim snorted; "This is my town, dude. I don't come to San Fran and beat up all your off-duty bartenders, do I? Get lost."

And then his face was on fire, and his entire body had been turned around by the force of the blow. The only consolation he had was that Cupcake's knuckles were probably broken.

"Stop it!" Uhura screeched, stepping forward, "What the hell are you thinking?"

While she tore into him, Jason, the server on duty, handed Jim a washcloth. "Thanks, Jace," he said, wiping off some of the blood dripping from his aching nose.

"City guys," Jason said in commiseration, and Jim nodded.

"What did you say about me?" Cadet Asshole said, having heard Jason's comment, "Do you wanna take this outside?"

"Do you want me to call the cops?" Jason shot back.

"I'm Starfleet," he sneered.

"Not for much longer, with an attitude like that," someone said from the doorway. Every single Cadet in the room stiffened or stood to attention as the man stepped into the room and moved to the bar. "Get out of here, all of you. Uhura, Harkins, you stay put. I'm sorry about the behaviour of my Cadets, sir, they'll be reprimanded."

"Oh, I hope they will," Jim said from beneath the washcloth, turning around to face the guy in question, "Huh. You were the Captain of the Centurion, right? Pike?"

"That I am," he inclined his head, "May I ask your name?"

"Jim Kirk," he replied, "I'd shake your hand, but it's kinda keeping me from bleeding too much."

"I understand completely," Pike said, shooting Harkins a look that promised much pain, "You wouldn't happen to be the son of George Kirk, would you?"

"That I am," he pulled the washcloth away, looking critically at the rather impressive amount of blood on it, "Geeze, Harkins, you've got a mean right hook. I really hope you're on Security Track; I can't see beefy hands like yours going into engineering or medicine."

Said hands clenched spasmodically, but were forced into inaction by the presence of his superior officer.

"I'm going to want a full report on this event by 0500 in the morning, Cadets. Punishments will be assigned tomorrow. Dismissed."

Both Cadets left, Uhura shooting Jim a weird look, and leaving him alone with Pike. Who immediately tried to recruit him.

It was the challenge, more than the offer that actually made Jim want to do it. Do better, Pike said. Jack had already tried to, but no one knew that - and he wasn't Jack right now anyway. Jim Kirk, meanwhile, was an unknown with a lot of family history to live up to. Well he would damn well try.

Pike left, apparently giving Jim some time to think about it, and Jason walked over once he was gone.

"Should I consider this your resignation?" he asked.

"... I guess so," Jim sighed, "I wanted to wait to do anything important until I was older."

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Jason said sagely.

Jim snorted and reached his now clean hand across the bar; "It was nice working with you, man."

"Don't get killed by an angry Cadet before you make Captain, or I'm getting your tombstone engraved "Dumbass"."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

* * *

 

When Jim first laid eyes on Bones, his memory flashed a young boy's face in his mind and he was hard-pressed not to laugh. The composed boy had apparently grown up into an angry man, but Jim could see immediately that that wasn't all there was to him.

"I might throw up on you," he said in greeting.

"Flying's not _so_ bad," Jim said, grinning.

"Pull the other one, kid," he snorted derisively, "One tiny crack in the hull, and our blood boils in thirteen seconds. A solar flare might pop up and cook us in our seats. And wait 'til your sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles. See if you're still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence."

He pulled out a flask and unscrewed the lid.

"You realise that Starfleet operates IN space, right?"

He pursed his lips; "I got nowhere else to go," he informed him shortly, "Wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I've got left is my bones." He took a swig and offered the flask to Jim; "Leonard McCoy."

"Jim Kirk," he replied, accepting it, "Pleased to meet you."

"Bones" as Jim would now be calling him, grunted in response.

And all Jim could do was laugh when the man did, indeed, throw up on him during their trip.

* * *

 

Jim and Bones, being the only two mature-aged, first year students on the shuttle (the rest were apparently returning from vacation for their second year, and had mostly joined straight from high school to boot), ended up being thrown together in the same apartment. Bones had complained, citing the fact that he was literally a decade older than Jim, but the administration lady had sent them on their way without so much as blinking at the man's bluster.

"It's a receptionist thing, I guess," the doctor shrugged, waving his key card over the lock of the door to their new lodgings, "Sherry, from my old practice, used to be the same."

"Must be trained into them," Jim agreed as they entered, and then paused, "Wow. Starfleet doesn't mess around."

"Nah, the rooms for the kids are probably just like any college dorm," Bones said, a grim smile on his face, "At least we get this much courtesy."

The door opened into a one meter square entranceway, and then a smallish living room housing a holoscreen, lounge, armchair and a sad-looking coffee table. Dead ahead was the kitchen and a door leading to the outside; a balcony, much to Jim's delight. To the left were three doors, presumably their bedrooms and the bathroom.

"One on the left's mine," Bones said, making a beeline for said room.

"Cool, I get the one closer to the kitchen," Jim laughed softly, walking in and throwing his duffle on the surprisingly comfortable looking bed. He was going to have to buy himself some more clothes so that he actually had things to wear at the parties he planned to attend (and host).

He poked his head into the bathroom and nodded, "The shower looks like it could fit a football team inside it," he announced, "I plan to take advantage of that."

"What, you're going to try and seduce an entire football team?" Bones snorted, coming out of his room holding a bottle of some sort of liquor, apparently to stash it in the kitchen.

"Nah. The cheerleaders, maybe," Jim said, watching to see just where Bones put the bottle.

He eventually decided on the back of a lower corner cupboard and then met Jim's eyes when he stood back up; "You can have some, just let me know when we get low so I can get more."

"What, I don't get to chip in?"

"I'm actually going to be working while I do this course," Bones shrugged, "I'm already a trained general doctor, and a Human neurosurgeon. I just need to learn how not to kill whatever aliens happen to walk into my office, and then I'm done. I'll be out of here in three years."

"That's my goal, too," Jim grinned, "Maybe we'll end up on the same ship."

Bones sent him a flat look; "I can already tell that that's a thing I don't want to happen," he said.

Jim pouted, but said, "Wanna explore the campus?"

"Why the hell not," he shrugged, pulling out his flask and swishing it around, "Yup, still half-full. Let's do this."

* * *

 

Jim was an easy person to live with, though finding that out would probably send a few people into cardiac arrest. He always informed Bones a week in advance of any plans to host a party, he always commed him when he thought he'd be bringing someone back to the apartment and he was a good conversationalist. By the end of their first month living together, they already had a weekly bar night and could tell the second the other walked in the door whether they needed a drink or some time alone (or both).

Two months and they were getting a reputation. Being first years, they had to attend more than a few classes and short tutorials on How Not To Be An Ass To Non-Humans, and while Bones was angry and aggressive to any being over the age of fifteen (or equivalent), Jim was charming and smooth to everything with a heartbeat (or equivalent). Between the two of them hey had a Good Cop, Bad Cop routine worthy of a 1930s PI noir. More than one instructor had suggested he become a diplomat instead of a command officer, and he'd laughed in their faces.

"I'm an asshole," he informed one particularly insistent Betazoid woman, "Just a charming one. I'll leave the diplomacy to people who actually care about other people's feelings or, well, the consequences of their actions."

Then, three months into their first year, Jim got hit by a hovercar. At high speed. One moment, he and Bones had been on their way to the nearest mall in search of a gag gift for Uhura's birthday, and the next he'd been shoved into oncoming traffic by someone running full tilt in the opposite direction. That guy didn't stop running, but Jim stopped moving, hoping his bones were broken so that he wouldn't have to explain himself.

'This was _not_ how this was supposed to happen,' he thought frantically as he squeezed his eyes shut at the pain and rising panic, "This wasn't supposed to happen at _all_!'

"Jesus Christ!" Bones yelled as traffic ground to a halt, "Someone fucking grab that guy!" he yelled at the crowd. Jim heard a few sets of feet sprint away, apparently to do the fearsome doctor's bidding.

He heard the door of the car open, a woman panicking, and Bones was yelling even as he got down beside him; "Call a fucking ambulance! Jim, can you hear me? What am I saying, you just got hit by a car."

Jim felt hands on him then, taking his pulse and checking his breathing, looking for the bones the collision should've broken. Except that there weren't any. His skin bruised and broke and healed like a normal human's - and it had, he was bleeding profusely from a number of cuts - but his bones could've been made of solid titanium for all the strength they held. The hands stilled.

"What the _fuck_?" Bones muttered, "Hey," he snapped at someone after a moment, "Keep an eye on his breathing."

He walked away, in the direction of the car, and Jim barely controlled a grimace at what he knew he'd find; a dent much larger than it should've been. Jim was capable of dying, of course - he _was_ human - but Manny had done his utmost to prolong his "vacation". He obviously hadn't factored in Jim having a doctor friend and getting hit by a car in his presence. Or at all.

"You can get lost now," Bones said on returning, and whoever had been beside Jim skittered away. "What the fuck, Jim?"

"I'll explain later," Jim muttered, barely moving his mouth.

"You're _conscious_?" Bones hissed.

"Yeah, and I hurt like a bitch," he replied, "so please don't punch me or anything."

Bones sucked in a breath to reply, but then the ambulance arrived and he was whisked away in a flurry of activity and general confusion over his better-than-expected condition.

That evening on returning home, Bones refused to speak to him, so Jim sighed and wandered out onto the campus green, which was mostly empty. He meandered down the sloped grass to the area that bordered the bay and sat down, pouting at the water. He watched the water lap against the retaining wall for almost an hour before flopping backwards with a huff.

"Paging E. Aster Bunnymund," he spoke to the air, "I need like two dozen favours and a confidante."

There was a pause, and then a rabbit hole appeared to the left of his head. Bunny hopped out, in human form, and settled himself down. "What's up, Jimmy-Jack?" he asked, rubbing his face vigorously, "I was having a nap."

"Sorry," Jim sighed, closing his eyes, "I should've called Tooth. I just didn't want anyone walking by and thinking I was talking to myself."

"Hold a comm. unit to your ear," Bunny snorted.

"... I'm so fucking _stupid_ today!"

"Hey," Bunny said, ruffling Jim's hair, "What's the matter, kid?"

"I... yeah, I should've called Tooth. I need her to fiddle with some people's memories, and I need North to change some records. Thankfully everything these days is electronic."

He opened his eyes to see Bunny frowning, but nodding, "What happened?"

"Got hit by a car. I'm fine!" he yelped, failing to avoid the hands that pinned him down to survey him for injuries. After a while he was released and he continued, "But yeah, hit by car in front of a crowd of people and then taken to hospital. Oh, and Bones was there. So he hates me now. Which may or may not have been the reason why I called you."

Bunny grinned, "What, so I can tell you why I stopped hating you? You planning on using the same technique?"

"Well, you know how it is," Jim snorted, "Tried and true and all that stuff."

"Here's the secret, then," Bunny said, "I still hate you. I'm just pretending to like you because it means you leave Easter alone."

"Expect a snowstorm next year, asshole."

"Do it and die."

"Maybe I want to," Jim groaned, rolling onto his stomach, "Everything is bad and I joined Starfleet, Bunny. The persona I've built for myself is the literal polar opposite of everything they stand for, except for maybe exploration, and even then..."

"Maybe they'll be able to beat a sense of responsibility into you."

"Very funny."

"Just talk to the guy, Jack," Bunny said, poking his leg with his foot, "Tell him your story. If it turns out bad, we can have Tooth and Sandy work out something to make him forget or think it was a dream, and then everything will be right as rain."

"Right as rain is a dumb phrase."

"And you're an idiot, so it suits," Bunny said, "I'll talk to North and Tooth, you talk to your Human. Meet up here tomorrow same time to discuss progress."

"What? Hey, you can't just-"

But Bunny had already hit the ground twice and fallen through the hole that opened up beneath him.

"Suck it up, Jack!" he called before the portal closed.

"You give shitty advice!" Jim yelled at the floor.

"That's because it's grass," a voice said, and Jim's head snapped up to see Uhura standing and giving him an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, that's about the width of it," he sighed, crossing his arms in front of him and resting his chin on them.

Uhura raised an eyebrow, probably at the use of such an archaic phrase, and then said, "I heard you got hit by a car today. You don't look too bad."

"N'aw, you were worried?"

"In your dreams," she said, rolling her eyes, "McCoy looked angrier than usual this afternoon, and I have an appointment with him tomorrow morning. You'd better make sure he's in a better mood by then."

"Hey, I don't dictate his moods."

"Maybe, but I get the feeling that this is your fault for being an idiot. If he takes this out on me, I'll take it out on you."

"Message received, ma'am," he sighed, "Have a good night."

She walked away without replying, and Jim kicked the floor.

* * *

 

Bones was reclining on the lounge when he returned, a full bottle of whiskey and two empty glasses sitting on the sad little coffee table.

The door closed behind Jim and Bones spoke; "I'm not xenophobic," he said, not looking at Jim, "I'm not angry because you're not Human; I just don't understand why you didn't tell me. Right down to your damn medical files and birth certificate. You. Are. Human. But you're very clearly not."

"I'm Human," Jim said, and when Bones looked up to tear into him he cut him off, "There was just a period where I... kinda wasn't."

"I'm gonna need more than that," Bones said, narrowing his eyes.

"How do I explain this?" he sighed, perching on the edge of the armchair.

"Start from the beginning," Bones suggested, "Why is it even a secret? And how did two totally Human people give birth to a non-Human? Unless one of them wasn't and you're a hybrid. Is that why you claim to be Human?"

"I _am_ ," Jim insisted, "I just- Okay, let's start from the beginning. A long time ago, a boy drowned in a lake near his town and in doing so, saved his sister from the same fate."

"I know this story," Bones snapped, "I read it to my daughter when she was six. I read it myself when I was a kid!"

"Here's what you didn't read," Jim said, trying not to get angry himself, "The Man In The Moon? An alien. So far beyond humanity's technological level even now that he has you all totally fooled. He's kinda the benevolent eye in the sky, the guy who sends others to do the protecting. He happened to see that boy die to save his sister and gave him a second chance the only way he could. And for three hundred years it sucked and every time someone walked through me it hurt ten times as much as that car hitting me did."

"You're fucking kidding me," Bones spat, "You're trying to sell me the story of Jack Frost as your own?"

Jim slapped his hand down on the table and it, the bottle and the glasses froze instantly. The sudden change in temperature made all the glass shatter, and Jim snapped, "Do I need to cause a fucking blizzard?"

Bones stared at the pieces of frozen glass for a moment before raising his eyes again to meet Jim's; "You're not joking."

"Clearly."

"... How old are you?"

"I was born in 1694," Jim sighed, his anger dissipating rapidly, "and then again in 2233. So, depending on who you're asking, I'm either twenty two or five hundred and sixty one."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I'm so old that all that math I run around doing is actually _enjoyable_ to me," Jim snorted.

"... You fucking broke my whiskey." Bones muttered numbly, obviously still processing. "I was going to yell at you and then offer you a drink, you piece of shit."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"... Does this mean that god-damned Santa Clause is real?"

"Yeah."

"Tooth Fairy?"

"Yep."

"Easter-"

"Bones, you met him when you were eight," Jim reminded him gently.

Bones looked like he'd almost stopped breathing for a full half-minute before he sprang to his feet; "You were the fucking teenager in the bush! I knew it had to be a Guardian or Spirit, but I never even remotely-!"

"I didn't introduce myself, so..."

"You're a fucking children's myth, I ate those stories up like a starving kid, I should've recognised you."

"What sane child expects the Spirit of Winter to be hanging out with the Easter Bunny in spring? Also, you swear a lot."

"I was spawned from curse words and medical encyclopaedias," he said dryly, dropping back down to the couch. The yelling had apparently relaxed him somewhat, and he leaned back to watch the whiskeysicle start to melt.

After five minutes, he spoke; "Think we can salvage that?"

"... Yeah, probably. If we get all the glass out."

"I'll get a bowl."

They spent the rest of the night getting drunk on slushy whiskey and freezing random items around the apartment. When they woke up the next morning, Bones watched him flop around on his bed like a dying fish for a few minutes - his cuts and bruises plus his hangover were going to kill him, he swore it - before nodding,

"Yeah, Human enough," he said, before stabbing him in the neck with a hypospray and walking out of his room, presumably to start his shift at the Academy's sickbay.

Jim whimpered and curled in on himself, the pain from the car crash more obvious now that he wasn't in pain from the hangover.

"I hate all my friends," he muttered to the empty room.

"I call bullshit!" Bones yelled, closing the front door before Jim could reply.

"Yep," he muttered, "Hate them all."

* * *

 

A week later and they were back to normal, mostly. Jim's skin had blossomed into a mosaic of black and purple bruises, which Bones refused to fix because he thought it appropriate penance. Throughout the whole week, the doctor almost constantly demanded feats of frostiness so grand that Jim's already aching body eventually just couldn't keep up.

"Please keep in mind," he said, lying on the floor, "that I'm stuck in a mostly unmodified human body right now, without my crook. P.S. _it is the middle of summer_."

"It's a month into Autumn."

"Still too warm," Jim moaned, "Growing up in Iowa was bad enough!"

"It snows in Iowa."

"It gets hot there too."

"Yeah, like 30° Celsius."

"I used to live in _Russia_ ," he said, flailing an arm in a generally northward direction, "because crossing the Equator was more effort than it was worth since the Southern Hemisphere doesn't really care much for me."

"You and that Russian kid could discuss the merits of the Motherland together," Bones snorted, "I heard him last week proclaiming that autumn where he lived was like winter here."

"He's not lying," Jack grinned, "I could see his house from where I lived."

"Are you kidding me?" Bones choked.

"Nope, he lived in the village at the base of the mountain I lived on. Very picturesque. His family's been there for generations now, since the Third World War."

"... Why didn't you interfere?" Bones asked, suddenly solemn, "So many children died in those wars, far more than adults..."

"I did," Jim replied softly, "Humanity has to work out its own problems - we can't just totally undermine people's free will - but I don't give a shit about things like the Prime Directive, so why wouldn't I interfere? I stalled machines, screwed with the weather, covered entire facilities with ice and I broke rules left, right and centre protecting Jamie Bennett and his family and friends."

"How does an incorporeal being protect people from corporeal bombs?"

"I moved them to Russia."

Bones stared at him for a long moment before simply saying, "Holy Jesus."

Jim grinned; "Not quite."

" _He's_ a _Bennett_?"

"His mother's side; most of the town is populated by the descendants of the Human children you read about when you were a kid."

"Holy crap."

"He's the only boy from Jamie's line of the Bennett family born this generation," Jim said fondly, staring at the ceiling, "and I promised his mum that I'd protect him no matter what, even though I was already human when he was born. I guess it's a good thing we both ended up in Starfleet."

"So the sister's line...?"

"Sophie is special," Jim said teasingly, "She only had her first child about a century ago."

"She's still _alive_?"

"Yeah," Jim sighed, "It was her choice, and Manny allowed it. She never wanted to leave Bunny, so Manny made her into something just that little bit past human."

"Big choice," Bones muttered, "I hope she doesn't regret it."

"She and Bunny have been happily married for a good two hundred years; thus far, she seems fine."

"... She married a giant talking rabbit."

"Pretty much," Jim shrugged, "Bunny's species were shape-shifters though, so while he's a rabbit most of the time, he's sometimes a Human and, once, a lion. It was adorable," he said at Bones' odd look, "He gave his daughter a ride around the Warren and the rest of us nearly melted from all the cute."

Bones sat silently for a moment before huffing a laugh and shaking his head; "I can't help but wonder just what I'm being dragged into here."

"Fun," Jim replied, "lots of it."

"Are you ever going to get off the floor?"

"All signs point to "no"."

" _You_ defeated Pitch Black," Bones muttered, turning around and switching on the vidscreen.

"I had help," Jim chuckled, picking himself up and then flopping beside Bones on the couch, "What's on?"


End file.
